Poetry

there’s too much valley here

when the sound of my own breathing reaches my ears

and my skin is warm

and time attaches itself to my brain

vulnerable, i am my most, here

now, inside sheets reeking of aging dreams and dying hope

there’s too much valley here

when do i start climbing?

 

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Poetry

A place of happiness

Would you again

my covert darling,

take me back to the place

where you first hugged

the giggle out of me

and would you allow

that I,

once again

hold you

like the skies hold the sun?

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Poetry

Subtle Inner Wishes

The mirrors

are thrown in place

and reflections

own their own

The mind conceives

and the roads break

Man desires

and his heart clones.

PhotoCredit: PhotoCredit: bencosart.blogspot.com

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